A Tale of Two Dances

Ohmigod. What a weekend. Not only has working out regularly trimmed inches off my body. But the workouts have equipped me with the stamina body for some serious all night raving. A rather flattering chap likened it my physique to 'Venus de Milo'....his words not mine. Damn son! Now that's what I'm talking about, some original sweet talk. Not the same old, 'bwoy, you look tick eh?'!

Any man that can slip those words into a conversation is either a Class A lothario or just someone I need to have a proper chat with. I digress.

Saturday night was a marathon two-party raving session. Not for the fainthearted, and strictly for the stamina mummies. Hence why I was tip-toeing in my metallic gold LK Bennett sandals (4"), due to some serious 'fuck me' foot pressure, out of a club deepest east London, Canning Town, at 7am on Sunday morning. Praise the Lord.

To all those wondering, how do you do it?

Butterfly Jones Raving Survival Guide:

Don't overdo it during the day
I went kickboxing at midday, and then took a leisurely stroll up to the South Bank, past the London Eye, where I took my daughter and her schoolfriend 'K' to lunch at Wagamama's. It was the first time she had had one of her schoolfriend's over and she was a bit nervous because let's put it this way, mother's home-making limitations would be on display. My plans to get up early and tidy up were scuppered by the late shift at work, and sleep was my bed partner. It was one of those sleeps which feels like the sweet love-making.

Clarke's friend had never been to Wagamama's before, but he was up for trying the food, had lovely table manners, and could hold a mature conversation. It was a really nice lunch. He definitely gets the thumbs up and is welcome round our house any time. Oh yeah, I noticed he is a boy, but it's not a problem for me, as I had a lot of boy friends when I was at school too as Shazby pointed out. She said she had thought it was a bit weird when she first met me and I was always hanging round with groups of boys (who I knew from my estate - or just met at school), with my socks rolled down to my ankles, kicking a ball against the wall at playtime.

Apparently lots of people are jealous of their friendship and are now frantically trying to find opposite sex friends of their own. Ah my daughter dat ya know. Trendsetter. No idea where she gets that from...Apparently, their 'names are round the school" because of their friendship. And a girl went out with Kadeem because she wanted to get 'her name round the school." Deep.

I just love talking to the youts' and finding out what's going on their heads. The non-verbal communication between Clarke and 'K' was very subtle too, lots of knowing looks, and lowering of voices when they wanted to say something I shouldn't be privy too.

The lunch happened as a result of something that happened in Malaga. Wong introduced me to a guy she knew, and we were hanging out by the pool, as he watched his young son swim. We were talking about our kids and stuff and he mentioned his son's school changed uniform. The same thing happened at Clarke's school. I enquired which school his son went to and we realised they were at the same school. I asked his son's name and nearly fell over when he said 'K'. That's why I can't go on shabby (slack) in London. My name would be round the 'school'.

Have a nap
After the kickboxing in the morning and the hour-long walk, I felt a sudden urge to lie down when I got in. So if you can, a nap before you rave is ideal. What is not ideal is waking up at 6.50pm realising you have 10 minutes to get to the dry-cleaners to pick up your frock for the night's activities.

Eat well
I made a light repas of roasted chicken, vegetables and potatoes. A small amount of carbs is essential to hold at bay the sensation of alcohol gnawing at your stomach at about 3am in the morning which is usually followed by a visit to the jerk chicken drum outside the dance or a Dixy fried chicken shop. And drink a fair amount of water to help offset the nights imbications (see dem big word deh Pessimist).

Don't leave home before midnight
Gina Ling picked me up around 12am and we set off to meet the others. We went to a big dance at a bar in the city. It's was what I call 'a duty rave'. Some nights you rave because you want to go out. But on Saturday night we all raved because Michie Wong wanted us to go out. So you do it out of duty to your friend (and I'm glad I did). But I got nothing but love for Michie Wong so I dug up a four-year old sexy little French Connection dress, and my hot gold shoes from LK Bennett which Beyonce would love, and represented. Cos ah Michie Wong name did mention Saturday night.

Don't rave with pickney
When we got to the bar, it was like a scene out of a house and garage video. Pure hottie hottie gyal, wearing tops as dresses, big batty girls fitting themselves in shorts, and some gangster lookin' yout's in jeans and fitteds (caps). Everyone was dressed in their ravin' best but it was clear, they were not our age-group. After 'queuing', yes, 'queuing', we went inside. The atmosphere was slightly tense. Too many 'hot gyal' inna de one place, and when a girl tried to flare up with Suzie Wong, we knew we had to just chill on the sidelines as it was the type of place where it was too easy to get into beef. And it's not about fighting in public, for us anyway.

Forget testosterone, estrogen was running tings up in that place, even the man's dem knew it as they clung to the walls, each man holding a bottle of Laurent Perrier just stood watching the girls as they whined and screwed (as in looked) for supremacy.

Thirty minutes into the dance, two eediot gyal started fighting. The DJs got the crowd to boo them, and security threw them out. Ten minutes later we left. When we got outside the police had arrived, as the girls had continued fighting once outside. Apparently they were being arrested. The police brought a van with dogs, and they shut down the rave early. Libs.

Pace yourself
Drink sensibly and don't do drugs. No drugs are needed to last all night, just the high of some alcohol to make you feel nice. No mixing, getting off your face, vomiting in your nice clothes, over your shoes. 'llow. Dat. I knew it would be a long night, so I started the night with a vodka and red bull. Followed by another double. Oh, I forgot about the premixed vodka me and Gina Ling drank in the car on the way to the second rave. House party measures. Oops.

So by the time we got to Rave II, we were feeling 'nice'. Walked in the place like 'woah'. Greeted old friends, found a spot, and started raving. Music was heavy, people were grown and sexy. No attitude, no bad vibes. No scrum for the bar, no queue for the toilets.The DJs were up for it and were reaching for the hot tunes missed out in Malaga. At no time from 3am onwards did I think, I want to sit down. I danced and sang and shook off my week at work.

Dance with a fit man
If at some point you start to think about the pain in your feet, you know it's time to take a load off. You should identify your target early and surreptitiously position yourself in their sightline. Don't beg a dance, but be open to being asked. Strategy worked, and I had someone to lean against for the last couple of hours of the dance, which helped me to forget about the pain of not having my spare shoes (Mich) plus the vodka took the edge off. He was lovely to dance with, look at and good to talk to. Neither the man nor yourself must dance nasty. Decorum, decorum, decorum!

Know when it's time to leave
It's a dance not a relationship. Thank him, leave and go to the car and rub your foot bottom dem. Or as actually happened, leave. Man follows you to the car to talk with you and the girls and after feisty Gina Ling brazenly asks him for a foot rub, rubs your foot bottom for you too! Result.